


Newport Pleasure

by goodnightfern



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Asexual Charlie, Charlie and Dee are smoking behind everybody's backs, Dee Reynolds character study tbh, F/M, M/M, Pre-s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9890852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: If Dennis finds out Dee is smoking he'll kill her. Or just whine for an hour before lighting one up and then they’ll all start smoking inside the bar again and Charlie will ash in the tip jar and it'll be a whole fucking thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> call me out on my long compound sentences. i just felt the need. the need for speed. the need for chardee macdennis. let's just do this, okay? let me just do this. i'm in that weird state where i have nothing but huge wips to work on and i need to cut loose and dance around new fandoms. okay?

There's no way the Waitress makes enough to afford a car. But she has a car now, and it’s going to get keyed or stolen or someone’s going to rip out the battery or pour salt in her gas tank, and if Charlie doesn’t keep an eye on her car he’ll have the Red Dream again, and so Dee has to drive him around some hipster neighborhood of Philly while the Waitress shops for quinoa and shit. 

Dee ashes her cigarette. Some of it spills down on the Range Rover's interior, and brushing it off just smears it everywhere. There’s enough condensation on her Slurpee cup to dribble some water on it, and then she can scrub at it with the sleeve of her hoodie, but it just smears even worse. 

It’s just Dennis’s car. But it’ll be a whole thing. If Dennis finds out Dee is smoking he'll kill her. Or just whine for an hour before lighting one up and then they’ll all start smoking inside the bar again and Charlie will ash in the tip jar and it'll be a fucking thing.

“Shit, Charlie,” she says. “See if Dennis has any hand sanitizer in his glove. Some of those little wipes or something.” 

“Little busy here, Dee?” 

“Oh my god, do you have the binoculars again? Put away the binoculars! Someone’s gonna call the cops, Charlie.” She swipes at him but he’s dodging. Finally she grabs the cord and yanks, forcing Charlie to give up the binoculars.

“Dee! I can’t see!” 

“She’s fine, dumbass! I can see her car from here. She’s getting in it.” 

“Is she?” Charlie squints, hauling himself out of the window. Sometimes Dee wonders if he actually has needed glasses the whole time. “Is that her? Dee, give me the binoculars.”

“I’m using the binoculars right now,” she snaps. “Yes. There she is. Driving away.”

“Wait, for real?” He dips back in the car. “Dee, step on it! What if she gets in a car crash? God - Dee, hurry up, goddamn it Dee - “ and now he’s fumbling for a cigarette himself, still swearing. 

“I’m just gonna go to the Starbucks first, okay? They got a drive thru. I’ll get you whatever you want,” she cajoles. 

Charlie looks like he’s about to scream at her. But - his eyes dart around a little, then relax.

Mac and Dennis aren’t here. They’re smoking cigarettes together, it’s Chardee time. Yeah, there’s the Waitress, and the unknowable disasters that could befall her, but Charlie’s in a good mood. Chardee time is Safe time - albeit less gross than Nightcrawlers. 

So they’ll get the coffee.

Charlie tortures the boy at window by requesting something esoteric and beefy before finally setting for a clusterfuck of a custom macchiato. But then the stupid little bitch gives her only one and a half shots of espresso. Dee can taste the specific percentages of espresso. She’s not an idiot.

Now the Waitress is completely forgotten, because Dee has to circle around and go back through the drive thru. She’s gonna do it again and again until she gets a refill for free, and they better put some god damned bacon bits on Charlie’s freaking milkshake. So that takes an hour, and then they’re all caffeinated and wired and get stuck in traffic and have to go home to the bar to get drunk and watch Mac try to explain wrestling moves with a Sharpie and cocktail napkin. 

It's just another one of those days Dee won't remember. Dennis shows up drunk as a skunk with hoagies for everyone. The paper they’re wrapped in is oddly damp and he's talking a lot about the girl who took his order. It's like Dennis forgot to take his meds or something. Hell, maybe he's _on_ his meds. He hands Mac his hoagie with an odd magnanimity. Of course he got every specific detail of Mac’s sandwich order right.

Macs eyes are shining. It’s horrible.

Dee nudges Charlie with her beer bottle. “Hey. Charlie.”

“Heeey. Dee.” Charlie blinks, sitting up. He might be a little blacked out. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” she says. Gives it her best Clint Eastwood. 

“Can we get popsicles?”

“Sure thang, sugar,” she says. Just like a real Southern belle. “We can do whatever you like,” and she’s slurring a bit, all accents smearing together, but whatever. 

“Chardee,” Charlie whispers.

“Chardee.”

It’s a little chant they do sometimes. Chants are good, they keep Charlie focused. Chardee, Chardee, out the bar and to the closest corner store to huddle over an ice cream freezer. They get the Flinstones pushup pops and menthol cigarettes. Smoke outside the store, wander around a bit. The neighborhood is a little spooky at night. Dee walks on the outside, checking out any suspicious looking shadows, and then they’re back home. 

Frank is cleaning his gun on the bar. Dennis really wants to be into it, but he’s playing Safe and Sensible. Making fun of Frank for compensating for something, telling Mac to keep his fucking fingers away from the trigger. Dee snorts. Charlie gets all excited about the gun, and she’s good to go and sit in her corner booth with her ice cream.

Then Mac comes sneaking up to her. He looks so fucking stupid when he thinks he’s being sneaky.

“Dee. Hey! Psst. Dee!”

“I hear you, Jesus,” she snaps. “Lower your voice when you whisper, stupid.” She almost calls him a cocksucker, but something holds her back from using that word on Mac. Anyone else but Mac. 

“Gimme a cigarette.”

“What? I don’t smoke.”

“Yes you do. You and Charlie, you’ve been smoking and you’re keeping it secret from Dennis and Charlie told me and - “

“Keep it down.” She pinches his arm, drags him down a little bit. Thank god Charlie is waving a gun around and distracting Dennis. “Charlie told you? That little shit.”

“What? It’s fine. And if you don’t give me one, I’ll tell Dennis.”

“Fine, fine. God.” She pulls one out and throws it at him. Mac grins, winks. 

“Love ya, Dee.”

“I hate you.”

Mac tries to saunter out as casually as possible. Which means taking massive steps and being completely obvious.

“What - where are you going?” Dennis cranes his head up on his stupid long neck. If anyone’s a bird, it’s him, really. 

“Just… just going out,” Mac says, dithering.

“If you’re going out, I’m going out.” 

“I’m just gonna go take a piss.”

“Piss in the bathroom, you filthy animal.” 

Now this is interesting, because Mac has been sneaking out. He goes the Rainbow. Everyone knows but they don't say a word and it’s stupidly obvious because he always gets glitter on his cheeks. Dee knows Dennis knows and Dennis hates it. She knows every weird move Dennis’s jaw makes, every disgusting tendon on his hand. 

Charlie and Frank are in their own weird world. Dee will have to intervene before they go off to shoot cats outside their apartment. 

So she says, “Yeah, Mac, why don’t you take Dennis with you,” and then drifts away from the ensuing shitstorm to go watch Charlie take a gun apart and put it back together, fingers moving faster every time, until the liquor takes over and she's feeling good again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy. ohhh boy. look, chardee is one of my rare sacred straight ships and i just

Dee still doesn’t know Old Black Man’s name because she makes a point of never knowing Frank’s friends well enough. Even if she has to sleep in a bed with him every night.

But the thing is, Old Black Man and Frank are buddies from god knows where, and sometimes they like to hit the town. They go out and bang hoors under highway bridges and probably suck each other’s dicks in the sewer or something. And those are nights when Dee gets to stay in Charlie’s apartment. Gets to get out of the deal, and Mac and Dennis don't even give a shit.

Yeah, it’s gross. But her apartment has been tainted already. 

And Mac and Dennis have been annoying as fuck lately.

So after Dennis caught Mac sneaking off to the Rainbow, after they started screeching all over the bar, they were just. Gone. For six hours. And then they came back - in her apartment - waking up her and Old Black Man - stinking of booze. Dennis’s shirt was absolutely soaked and Mac was half-carrying, half-dragging him, and seriously, it was six in the morning. 

Six in the fucking morning.

She can’t kill them. And she doesn't want Dennis to take an axe to her door if she changes the locks on them. So until the jackasses get their own place to suck each others dicks forever and ever, she can watch Charlie eat his nightly cat food. 

“Why don’t you just huff paint to sleep or something?” she asks. She’s painting her toes on the floor and the smell is honestly better than anything in here. “Try this. Nail polish.”

“Paint always makes me wanna do something, you know?” Charlie scoops another bite in his mouth. “Like I wanna write a song or something. Now, nitrous is good for sleeping. But you wanna get the high-quality stuff for that, like what dentists use. Otherwise you get a headache and - “

And the Blue Dream will come. Yeah, Dee knows about that. 

“I gotta ask Cricket, man,” Charlie says, distracted. He’s cut his finger on the sharp rim of the can. “Cricket’s got the hookup.”

Dee finishes her last toe. It’s kind of sloppy, but when she sleeps and showers in the morning it’ll kind of rub off her skin and it’ll be fine. She reaches for a cigarette, tosses one in Charlie’s direction. “Smoke. I’m not gonna be able to sleep if I have to smell that fucking cat food all night.” 

“What, and I have to smell your nail polish - “

“Oh, please, bitch. You like it.” Leaning back on her elbows a bit, she waggles a foot at him. Charlie winces, grabs the cigarette. “Think fast,” Dee says, and throws the lighter at him. It bounces off his face. Dee giggles. She has a beer somewhere, and if she flops all the way down on her back she can reach it. 

Charlie lights his cigarette and watches her drink her beer. He’s shivering a little bit, even in his hoodie. “Can we smoke in bed?” he asks, and Dee doesn’t see why not.

It’s better to stretch out in bed. There was probably something disgusting on the floor, but whatever. It’s not like Dee is some fancy bitch or something. It’s not like she hasn’t slept in worse places. Twin lines of smoke curl up to the water stained ceiling, and they’re quiet for a moment. Quiet in the way Chardee time gets quiet - not awkward, just nice. No Mac, no Dennis, no Frank. Nobody but them. 

So Dee rolls over until she can see Charlie’s dream book poking out from a stack of filthy magazines. 

“Hey. Charlie. Lemme see your Dream book.”

“What? No!”

“If I’m sleeping with you, I’m gonna have to deal with your dreams. So show me.”

“Dee,” Charlie whines, then hesitates. “Oh. Oh, shit, Dee. Are you having dreams? Does sleeping with Mac and Dennis all the time give you dreams? ‘Cause I sleep with Frank, and I’m pretty sure that’s why I’ve been having the mole dreams, so I'm just saying, man. You never know what you're gonna get with a sleeping partner.”

“Mole dreams.”

“Yeah. Like I’m a mole underground, and I’m down in the dark with all the worms and stuff and it’s nice.”

“Jesus, Charlie. And no. I don’t have - mole dreams.”

“Mac and Dennis wouldn’t be mole dreams. They’d be… hyenas, maybe.”

“Nah. They’d be chimpanzees.”

“Mole dreams are nice. Hold on,” Charlie says, and he’s up off the bed, grabbing the Dream Book. He curls up on the floor beside her side of the bed and starts thumbing through it. 

Dee sits up. This is the Dream Book. It’s like the fucking Bible of Charlie or something. There’s the bird with teeth.

“See? That’s you,” Charlie says, and then just flips right past it. “Now the moles, let me show you - “

“Wait, wait, wait! Go back. Why am I a bird with teeth?”

“I dunno.” Charlie goes back to the page. A bird with teeth grimaces up from the book. “You’re a bird.”

“Stop calling me - “

“And you have nice teeth.”

Oh.

Dee does have nice teeth. She flosses, sometimes. And now Charlie is tilting his head back up at her, staring at her teeth, because she’s smiling now. 

“Thank you,” she says.

“Yeah. Okay, but the mole dreams - “ 

“Wait a second,” Dee says, and gives him a peck on the lips. “All right. Now show me your mole dreams.”

Charlie grins, and bends back to his Dream Book. 

The mole dreams are cool. Dee gets it. They’re the Safe Dreams. But there’s so many pages in the Dream Book, so she gets Charlie back up on the bed. Hands him another cigarette. Charlie shows her crude drawings of snakes wearing overalls, and Dee spills ash on the sheets. He doesn't show her the Blue or Red Dreams. For Charlie, horror comes in primary colors. Instead he shows her the moles and hyenas, all scrawled out in Kool-aid colors. There's secrets in his hieroglyphs Charlie can't even explain, but one of them looks like a bird with teeth. 

When the cats outside start up their nightly serenade, Charlie gives her a sock of paint. Just to help her get some sleep. 

Dee dreams that she's an ostrich running across the fields of Australia or wherever the fuck ostriches live. Her fangs are sharp, and she runs and runs and runs into the horizon, spreading her wings.

**Author's Note:**

> hi. im spoopernaptime @ tumblr dot com


End file.
